


Unexpected Allies

by Shatterpath



Category: Bad Girls, Bionic Woman (2007)
Genre: Character Study, Crossover, Gen, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikki (Bad Girls) and Ruth (bionic Woman) have to work together on a project. What's the project? How does it go?</p><p>Prompt from Caitrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Allies

**Author's Note:**

> Archive permission to Shatterstorm Productions and Archive of Our Own only, please.

"Hey, hey," I try my best to soothe down the clearly distraught woman. "Take it easy or you'll get hurt."

She glares but obeys, easing into the hard work with a more measured effort, her jaw set. In the two weeks since I met the strange American expatriate, Ruth Truewell, I have more questions about her than answers. There's absolutely nothing strange about her official paper trail, I hate to admit that I wheedled Helen into checking, which makes her behavior all the more striking.

Ruth is paranoid and deeply wounded, constantly on high alert to her surroundings while working punishingly hard. She's in her early to mid forties and is attractive in a chiseled, girlie butch sort of way. This sort of rough and physical hard work isn't her background, but she's remarkably good at it, picking up any skill extraordinarily quickly. These things make me feel like she must be some sort of heavy hitter in a spy novel hiding out or some such nonsense.

What trauma put such deep shadows in her color-changing hazel eyes? The last couple days the icy armor is cracking; you can almost hear it. So I've taken to keeping a discrete eye on Ruth as we labor away at the new Basildon Youth Center, about fifty kilometers east of London. This sort of volunteer work is good for me, helps grind away more and more of the sharp edges Larkhall left me with.

Abruptly, a subtle change in Ruth's body language catches my eye and I casually lean on my spade and wipe a rag over my sweaty brow. I nearly drop the act at the brittle agony stark on the American's face as she stares at… Lauren, the cute young thing that followed me here to throw in a week of volunteer hours away from the nightclub. As one of her bosses, I habitually keep my eyes off the girl, wanting no drama from either the club's co-owner or my girl back home. But Ruth has no such compunction, openly staring at the girl with anguish.

Who is it that Lauren looks like? That story is plain on Ruth's face. With harsh effort, face flushed with it, she chokes it down, tears her gaze from Lauren and attacks the pile of rubble with renewed gusto. There was a girl, lanky with dark hair and pale eyes that broke Ruth's heart somehow. By the tears the strong woman roughly grinds into her dirty glove, whoever that girl was, she may have even left Ruth behind.

I can't help but feel for her. But how do I get past that paranoid armor? There's always a cool pint after a hard day's work. Heartened by the thought, I get back to the back-breaking labor.

Eventually dusk is close and I wander over to work alongside Ruth, who looks exhausted. Not just hard work exhausted, but like she hasn't slept well in a very long time. The sharp hazel eyes snap over beneath the brim of her cap, accept my presence and we quietly work side by side. The crowd thins over the next half hour and I finally have an opportunity to speak quietly with no curious ears overhearing.

"Lauren looks like her then," I say conversationally, once more mopping off my brow. Anger and horror and agony and disbelief radiate from the shorter woman. "Oh, you cover well, but I caught it, Ruth. Care for a sympathetic ear and a cool pint? You've more than earned it." Oh, she wants the offer of succor so damn bad she can taste it, so I up the offer by sharing a story of my own. "It was a normal night at the club. Me and the girlfriend own the place you know. There was this sleazy bastard of a local copper that decided that Trish made too convenient a target. Took a broken bottle to him before he could rape her and hide behind his damn badge. Spent four hellish years behind bars in a place that still gives me nightmares." It took me years to speak about all of that calmly, but I can do it now. "Come to think of it, that tenth anniversary is this November. Gonna have to go somewhere with my Hel for that. So, come on, Yank, I can take whatever it is about that girl that Lauren looks like."

Ruth still looks a little shell-shocked and I wisely drop it, efficiently bundling her off the car and heading for a pub halfway across town where we can get away from anyone we know. With half a pint of something far darker and stronger than I'd seen her with before warming her belly and Ruth haltingly starts to talk.

"I… I worked with her. We met under shitty circumstances and things were so tough then. She'd been in an accident and lost her unborn and fiancé and there was some weird shit going on, so things were tough. Then an old nemesis of the company's showed up and started yanking her chain and we brought in one of our trusted agents to work with her and the idiot got himself killed and she didn't have long to live anyway…"

It's the most words I think I've ever heard from the woman, pouring out of her until her voice is too strangled with tears to continue. With only a squeeze of her tense forearm in sympathy, I nudge the ale to indicate it needed drinking and discretely flag the barkeep for another round. A lot of what she'd whispered doesn't make complete sense, but I've gotten the gist and wait for her continue. With a few painfully hard swallows of her drink, Ruth settles down and speaks at the deep amber liquid.

"In time, I was the only one to work with her. We were a good team, y'know." Her sad smile is so painful I feel my own heart ache in sympathy. "Well, we were for awhile there. Then, one day, she… she just didn't make it back. Dropped off the face of the planet and it was almost the end of the countdown anyway. The five years were up, just like Will said. Oh sure, we looked for her for a long time, but she was gone and there was a lot of action on the black market and we eventually had to give up." There's real alarm when she looks searchingly at me, and while I'm curious what she means about 'black market' I'm letting it go. With my calm nod, she softly continues, this time the stricken eyes, washed almost yellow with stress, hold mine. "It was only after she was gone when I realized how much she meant to me, left behind this… this… hole in my life. I never told her she meant anything to me, never did so much as give her a hug, barely smiled at her. Then she was gone and all I've got are regrets."

The barkeep, discretely out of earshot, responds to her weak wave and a request for a double of vodka she shoots with practiced ease. Only then do the tears break loose, rolling silently down her face. "What was her name?" I ask gently and Ruth seems taken aback. Something that almost looks sweetly hopeful blooms over her face and it's a long moment before she can speak.

"Jamie."

"Then," I raise my glass towards the ceiling. "To Jamie." After a moment, Ruth raises her own, lightly clinking it to mine, and softly repeats the words.

"To Jamie."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was much shorter and I almost didn't continue. However, I like how it came out!


End file.
